The boy slept at my house last night. It looks as if it will be our first successful attempt. The last time we tried he awoke in the middle of the night crying for "Mommy!" and I caved, called her after about five minutes of trying to console him unsuccessfully. She came over and took him home. The experience didn't fill me with much confidence.
We've both grown quite a bit since then. We're old buddies now. I had thought that he would want to sleep in my bed, but nope... he braved it in pure Ikea kid-bed luxury. He's over there now, sawing imaginary toothpicks.
He'll wake soon and we'll make breakfast. I spent $50 on $10 worth of groceries at the most expensive market on the planet, truly. They asked me if I would like to pay their taxes for them as I was checking out. We just happened to have been meeting there, to have a little dinner with Mom, so it seemed to make sense at the time. During the "hand-off" I tricked him with the mention of ice cream, then backed it up with the actual fact.
We sat and enjoyed cookies and cream, discussing the merits of Tarzan and what to do next about the bad guys.